Autumn Leaves
by Owllin Abandoned Account
Summary: One by one the leaves drift downward, one by one the stories are told; sometimes it's the little moments that tell the story of your life. Smellershot.


1. Pet

Smellerbee looked down at the nameless solider and gave him and number in her head (_"23,"_ she thought.) and felt the sick sensation rising up in her throat, as it did every time she preformed this masochistic ritual. She jolted as a hand placed itself on her head softly but firmly enough to show that he was there, that it was okay. Smiling ruefully, Smellerbee punched Longshot lightly in the side, the bitter taste in her mouth easing slightly.

2. War

Longshot remembers: the shining, red knife in her hands, the four quickly cooling bodies on the ground, the dark stain soaking her brightly colored dress, all the colors of spring turning crimson. Her face is guarded and cold, but still readable: Sorrow, anger, confusion, dread… more than anyone should ever have to take.

She does not cry. He leads her to a stream and gets the better part of the blood off of her, some hers most not, then leads her back to the tree house. No one questions it, the situation being all too familiar. They never speak of the incident. They both know what the four red streaks painted on her face mean.

3. Sew

The string on Longshot's hat breaks, a sudden twang he had not expecting almost shocking him. Letting it drop to the ground, he continues the battle; running forward, arrows already pulled back in the bow. When he goes back for it later, the final shots long fired, it has a few more holes in it but is otherwise in-tact. He tucks it under his arm and carries back, but his head is not held high from the recent victory.

That night Smellerbee steals the hat from Longshot's bedside and mends it with a clumsy needle and thread, the strokes too big and too loose. She gives it back to him saying she was sick of all his whining.

4. Green

Longshot wretched over the side of the boat for the umpteenth time, releasing sounds that only served to make him feel more ill. Evidentially, the sea and he didn't really get along. When he could finally breathe again he looked down and saw a bright purple substance floating in the water.

_Purple. When did I eat something purple?_ On second thought, he didn't really want to know.

Hr turned shakily with a hand over his still-turning stomach, only to come face-to-face with a cup of hot tea. Smellerbee stood behind it, posture as worried as it ever got.

"The fat old guy says this helps seasickness. I think he just thinks tea fixes everything."

5. Quilt

They were all old clothes, tattered and dirty and unwanted, left to rot and decay, but he had discovered, gathered them, cut off their tattered ends and loose threads, stitched them together with the bounds of friendship and loyalty, turning them into the finest quilt there ever was.

6. Muscle

Most of him was nothing to get excited about, but his arms were something to behold; strong, well built, they were practically carved in marble. Using a bow and arrow all the time will do that to you, Smellerbee supposed. Still, she would have the odd inclination to stare whenever he would change his shirt near her.

7. Bone

Smellerbee did not cry out when her leg had been firmly crushed by the Fire Nation solider, did not even so much as blink, but she did allow herself a soft whimper into the folds of Longshot's cape as he carried her piggy-back style to the tree house.

8. Skin

There had been a brief moment, once, when Smellerbee had handed Longshot his bow and their hands had brushed against each other's. Neither said a word about it or even acknowledged it, but, then again, neither of them forgot about it either.

9. Dart

"Sure is nice that we found this picture of Fire Lord Ozai," Jet said, carelessly tossing another dart. It landed on the picture's chin.

Longshot nodded and tossed his own dart, hitting directly in the eye.

Jet snickered, "Nice. I give that twenty points."

10. Passion

Everyday, she practices. Hours upon hours of sore hands and blisters. One, two, three, four, one after the other, cuts and bandages and blood, but still she persists. The tree looks liable to break in half with all of the holes in it. Then one day…

It's fall and the leaves have started to change, one by one, making their decent to the ground. Smellerbee, ready for them, throws four knives in quick succession and hears each 'thawp' of their landing with immense satisfaction. Four leaves are pinned squarely in their middle, each on a separate tree.

Smellerbee beams, "Beat that, Longshot!"

11. Façade

Longshot closes his eyes and pictures it: A house, whole, un-burnt, and filled to the brim with family; grandparents, father, mother, two older sisters and four brothers. A pie is cooling by the window, cinnamon tart by the smell (his favorite), and one of the sisters is yelling for some privacy for once in her life, like she did every day. Of course, no one listens.

Outside are the friends, five of them, all with homes and families of there own. They have real names and real smiles and have never had to kill anyone in their lives. Everyday they climb trees and get into trouble and steal pies out of windows before they're cool enough to eat, but eat them anyway. They torment the old man down the street and get grounded then sneak out of their houses at midnight just to throw rocks in the pond. They have tree houses, but the only time they sleep in them is when their parents allow them to.

Longshot opens his eyes and sees Smellerbee looking at him, a sad smile on her face, knowing what he's thinking.

12. Ravage

"Stop," a voice muttered sleepily behind Longshot. He turned around, surprised, to face Smellerbee, the only other person in the room. Funny, the last time he'd checked she'd been sleeping. Had she woken up?

But no, Smellerbee was still sound asleep, yet something about her seemed off. Her face was hardly that of serene peace and her blankets had become tangled up in her legs.

"Please, stop it," she whispered again, eyebrows knitting together. Longshot put two and two together: A nightmare.

He got up and walked lightly over to Smellerbee's sleeping form, sitting just beside her head. "Stop what?" he asked gently.

"Stop hurting Mom," she said.

Longshot's stomach twisted sickeningly. "Okay," he replied, lightly bushing his fingers over her forehead, "we'll stop."

Her face eased after that remark, leaving Longshot with an odd hurt in his chest and a wish that he actually could stop something so long past.

13. Plight

"Oh, god, we're dead," Smellerbee pants as she leans heavily against the wide oak tree. Beside her, Longshot nods his agreement.

"You two are going to tell me how to get this shit off my face if it's the last thing you ever do!" Jet yells, closer than they had thought.

"Breaks over," Smellerbee says, and the two leap into action, speed fueled by complete and total fear.

14. Laogai

Months later, Smellerbee still had to fight off the urge to cry whenever she heard that fateful place mentioned.

15. Torch

On night raids Longshot, whenever possible, refuses to hold the torch; the memory of his loss and fire's connection to it still far too raw and painful in his heart. For the most part, he succeeds. Occasionally, however, there are times when it looks as though he would have no choice, but just when he reaches out for the undesired object, Smellerbee's hand would snatch it away without a word. Silently, Longshot thanks her for that.

16. Sweet

It was the first candy either of them had seen in a very long time.

17. Spice

After they had managed to escape Lake Laogai, Longshot began to do the oddest thing; every day he would bake. Blueberry pies, pear pies, apple spice pies, more pies than Smellerbee even knew existed, let alone knew Longshot could make.

Never had a pie tasted so bitter.

18. Mild

"You don't suppose these come in a mild form, do you?" Smellerbee asked Longshot skeptically, poking uneasily at a bag of hot flakes.

19. Hot

It was the longest, hottest day any of them could remember, and it had been decide that any Fire Nation raids could wait until it wasn't so bloody humid, giving them a rare vacation.

Presently, they were all in a near-by creek, trying to keep the sun a bay. Longshot sat off to the side of his friends, only his feet dangling in the water. In front of him, The Duke was riding on Pipsqueak's back, dumping his water-filled helmet onto unsuspecting victims. Sneers had found a particular spot where fish were swimming freely and was trying his damnedest to catch one with his bare hands (with limited success). Jet was sitting on a tall boulder, looking rather princely, and behind him, moving like a cat, was Smellerbee, poised to pounce.

An odd feeling bubbled up in Longshot's chest, and he couldn't quite place it but he knew he liked it.

20. Scroll

Longshot wakes up with ink on his face, a ruined scroll on the desk, and a blanket on his shoulders. In the flickering candle light he can make out the silhouette of Smellerbee sitting in the corner, long since asleep waiting for him.

21. Firefly

Smellerbee is surprisingly careful as she takes the jar from his hands, holding it close to her face. The yellow-green light dances haphazardly in the air between them, glowing like nothing in this world. The look of wonder in her eyes gives Longshot hope.

22. Long Feng

She can only think of one other time when the urge to kill had been so bad: The day her family had died.

23. Katara

Smellerbee knew that there was nothing that spirit water could have done to save Jet; his wounds had nothing to do with spirit and everything to do with internal bleeding. She also knew that if Katara had told them about it at that time, she would have learned water bending right then and there and used it anyway.

24. Topknot

For a little while, before everything fell apart, Jet had taken to collecting topknots off fallen Firenation soldiers. "Souvenirs," he said with a twisted gin as he stuck them in his pockets. It was one of the few decisions that never really sat well, and everyone was more than a little happy when he decided to stop.

25. Metal

The iron bars were cold against his palms and he leaned his head in forlornly, his forehead cooling on the metal. He thinks of his friends, held securely in other cells, of The Duke and Sneers and Pipsqueak and Smellerbee, and wonders, _wonders,_ how they ended up here, when the smell of leaves and dirt still seemed so close.

26. Foot

It was odd that he now found himself looking at the bottom of her feet, but the cramped sleeping accommodations in their new place of residence coupled with the fact that she had out-grown that blanket years ago, had allowed him a perfect view.

He kinda wished she would wash them more often.

27. Fingers

Longshot's were long and pointed, like a musicians or a scholar's, while Smellerbee's were short and stubby and made for little other then hard work and knives. If you'd looked strictly at their hands wound imagine Smellerbee would be the stronger of the two, but she always had the feeling that one day his long, dainty fingers would be the ones to hold them all together.

28. Strawberries

Smellerbee walks into his room in the tree house, intent on asking him if he had any extra socks, only to discover Longshot sitting with a basket full of strawberries and a suspiciously red mouth.

Smellerbee cocks her eyebrow and says, "Are you hording those?"

An embarrassed blush. A mischievous grin.

"I won't tell if you give me some."

29. Cream

Smellerbee picks up the intricate jar carefully, as if it's made of glass and the slightest touch could shatter it. Turning it slowly in her hands, examining every minute detail, she finally opens the lid to reveal a pale, creamy substance smelling faintly of daisies and vanilla. Make-up.

"Do you want it?" Longshot asks, her ever-present shadow.

"No," she replies, placing the jar in its original place, "but sometimes I wish I did."

30. Dessert

"One good thing about not having parents," Smellerbee says, picking up another candied fruit, "is you never have to wait until after dinner to eat dessert."

The comment is not very happy, but Longshot forces himself to smile. She means well.

31. Murder

"Damn it, Longshot," Smellerbee said as she looked down at the village in its state of half-rebuilt, "what were we thinking?"

"What were we ever thinking?" He responded, and his voice was low, somber.

32. Soldier

They'd done the numbers. With the six of them combined (Longshot, Smellerbee, Sneers, The Duke, Pipsqueak, and Jet) their body count was well into the triple digits, plus the countless other runaways in their group, whose numbers couldn't be easily accounted for.

They wondered, did this mean they'd won?

33. Fever

"ACHOO!"

Smellerbee sniffed, looking utterly pathetic with red eyes and a runny nose.

"I hate hay fever."

Longshot just smiled and handed her a rag.

34. Sedate

Another flaming arrow whizzed passed Longshot's face, so close he could feel the heart radiating off of it, quickly followed by half a dozen more. He gritted his teeth and tried to weave in and out of the trees as fast as he could to avoid the Yuu-Yan archers, but…

"Keep going…" came Smellerbee's voice by his ear as she hung on his back, limbs useless form a poison dart.

35. Children

She rams her fists into anything, everything, walls, vases, pillars, and the ground once or twice, eventually landing on his chest pounding, pounding, pounding, as she releases screams and dry half-sobs and he just takes it, and takes it, and takes it.

They were just _kids,_ dammit. They were just kids…

36. Shock

"Ah!"

Longshot turns around quickly, arrow already pulled back in his bow, only to see Smellerbee once again shaking her hand around as if stung by, well, a bee.

"This is the last time I wear wool in a fire nation ship," she mutters.

37. Monster

"You're not a monster," he said, running one hand over her surprisingly smooth hair. She said nothing and clutched her knees tighter to her chest, her breathing eerily regulated and calm.

38. Giggle

Longshot could only stand in shock, amazed that a noise like that could come out of Smellerbee.

39. Chime

A wind chime rings somewhere in the distance and Smellerbee finds herself closing her eyes and sniffing the air, as if, along with the familiar sound, she will once again see her father's gruff smile, smell her mothers incense, still clinging to her like a perfume.

40. Interrupt

"Shit!"

Longshot looked up from stringing his bow, almost bored despite the sudden outburst. Within moments, a crimson colored Smellerbee walked into his room, sitting down on the floor with a heavy thump and refusing to meet his gaze.

Longshot allowed a few moments pass before asking, "So, you walked in on Jet with a girl again?"

Smellerbee's face went even darker and she placed a hand over her eyes as if trying to block out the image, "We've _got_ to come up with some kind of signal for this."

41. Massage

"Hey," Jet said, voice fading with each breath, "if you ever see them again, tell the others that I'm sorry. Tell them that I hope… I hope one day… they can forgive… their stupid leader…"

"Dammit, Jet," Smellerbee gasped, "There's nothing to be sorry for. We'll always forgive you anyway. We're your friends."

Jet smiled one last time.

42. Callous

It came as a disturbing surprise to Longshot that the smell of rotting human flesh had become so common place that longer bothered him.

43. Bow

"It's cute," he says, patting her lightly on her shoulder. Smellerbee just whines and wonders what ever gave those stupid girls the idea to put this, this, _thing_ in her hair.

44. Decay

The seamster is gone and once again the quilt is nothing but old, thread-bare fabric, rotting in the mud. Still, they pick up and carry on, broken or not, and hope that maybe one day they can be whole again.

45. Bloom

"I think," Longshot says, cutting her off, "that you look lovely in green."

46. Squeal

"Aaaaai!!"

"Smellerbee, tell me you didn't just put _another_ spider down the back of Longshot's shirt."

47. Prince

Longshot found Smellerbee outside the main hall, looking out of place among the splendor and extravagance of the Fire Lord's mansion. She shifted uneasily in the layers of her handmade robe and glared intently at her feet.

"I'm not going back in," she announced, without even looking up.

Longshot, expecting this from the beginning anyway, walked over to her side and stood with her, shoulders brushing; some things just couldn't be forgiven, no matter the parties or the presents. Sometimes -- most of the time -- the wounds of one hundred years simply ached too much.

48. Fairy-Tale

"I don't want a fairy tale, Longshot," Smellerbee says, staring into the fire, "I just want a happy ending."

Longshot, not knowing what to say to this, pulls Smellerbee's hand into his own and squeezes it, hoping she'll get the message.

49. Lavish

They were both rather simple people; give them a cot and three meals a day and they were set. That didn't mean that they didn't enjoy the finer things in life occasionally as well. They usually skipped out on the bill for those, however.

50. Jerk

Longshot just stood there with his eyes on his feet, as quiet as if he'd never had a voice at all, and Smellerbee could feel her anger rising up like an awakening volcano.

"Don't you give that silent treatment, you jerk!" She yelled, taking two strides forward and grabbing the front of his shirt. "This isn't something you can not answer."

For a moment, Longshot looked down at her with too-big eyes that seemed to read her every thought, see her every weakness, and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. What if he…?

But then he kissed her and she kissed him and even though it wasn't going quite right (he kissed too softly and she kissed too fiercely and neither of them had much practice) Smellerbee felt immensely better, because at least his answer was the one she wanted.

**A/N: Umm... not much to say on this. Some of these drabbles I like and some are kinda "eh", but there's enough good to offset the bad. I hope you liked it. Standard disclaimer applies, by the way.**


End file.
